Let the Rain Fall In
by itsavolcano
Summary: Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a dark shadow fall over her features as she watched him walk away. It was a look of resignation and it filled him with a hot rush of fear. - Post-post Blue Bird.


A/N: Ever start something that turns into something totally outside your comfort zone, and you realize you only have yourself to blame? Anyway, this was a wee tad outside my usual fare. Or at least it felt like it to me. I'd love to know what you think! Also, I recommend listening to "Feels Like Letting Go" and "I Won't Let You Down Again" by Matthew Perryman Jones-I had them on repeat while writing. Fantastic stuff! All typos and errors are my own-undoubtedly, there will be unwieldy comma usage.

_Help me open my heart again, _  
_Tear it open let the rain fall in_  
_Wash this hardness underneath my skin, oh my love_  
_Let me hear your voice come through_  
_I wanna know the love inside of you_  
_Make this dark heart believe in what is true_  
("Feels Like Letting Go"; Matthew Perryman Jones)

Let the Rain Fall In

When word that Jane and Lisbon were together trickled down through the channels, the cynics took bets. They assumed Patrick Jane would be the half of the dynamic duo who struggled with this new development in the relationship, and their logic made sense: he had spent over a third of his life a widower, heavily shrouded in his mourning weeds, a vengeful gleam in his eye and a taste for blood on his tongue. To those outsiders, he was a cause lost within his own isolated design.

With only a handful of flirtations and a one night stand over the course of that solitary decade-and all in the name of criminal justice-it seemed likely he would be the one to panic and flee. But a burden had lifted from his shoulders after declaring his love so publicly. Although he was still scared and waves of panic _did_ roll through his stomach, he promised to do his best to remain present, to become a man worthy of Teresa Lisbon. It seemed she loved him despite all his faults and against her own better judgement, but he wanted to _be _the man she deserved. He had disappointed her enough over the years and didn't want her to regret her decision to stay.

Jane had spent the flight home from Miami simultaneously elated and terrified. Throughout the trip, he'd snuck glances at Lisbon, his heart soaring when she'd catch him and blush, tilting her head down to hide her embarrassment with the soft cascade of her dark hair. She pretended to focus on the SkyMall magazine while Jane lovingly tapped two fingers along the slope of her knee. Resting his warm hand over her thigh, he glanced his thumb along the inner seam of her black jeans and smiled when she gave a slight jump.

He hadn't felt this happy since he returned from his island. And even then, his happiness had been tightly reined. Although he had hugged her freely and fully when he entered that conference room, now… Now he could touch her without pretense and she would welcome it, knowing his intentions were true. He could catch her soft gasps as he kissed her lips, the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her throat. Nothing could dampen his mood, not even the various confused or self-satisfied looks from his other team members. And for ten days, nothing _did _dampen his mood.

It wasn't until Lisbon was shot by Derrick McGrady, a twice convicted drug dealer in violation of his parole, that the smile finally left his face. The recent death of a state official by a woman with a penchant for crystal meth had led them to McGrady. He'd been collateral damage, given up by the murderer in hopes of a lighter sentence as she claimed it was his meth that led her to murder. McGrady, paranoid by trade, had a loaded firearm in the elastic band of his dirty sweatpants. He'd fired off one uncoordinated shot before Fischer could finish demanding he open the door.

Lisbon was wearing her Kevlar vest and, because of his working policy that a good salesman always samples his own product, McGrady was a horrible shot. The bullet glanced her side but carried enough force to knock her to the ground and leave her gasping for air. Jane had watched it all in slow motion, was momentarily rooted to his spot amid the pack of FBI vehicles. In a matter of seconds he was running through the crowd, but he couldn't reach her fast enough. Agents swarmed down on the scene, and Fischer made it to Lisbon first, waving over a medic. Cho had McGrady face down and eating dirt, his knee digging between the druggie's shoulders with more muscle than necessary as he cuffed him.

By the time he finally reached her, Lisbon was sitting up and holding an oxygen mask to her face. She looked up at him and he saw a soft flicker of fear play at the edges of her green eyes, but with one hard blink it was gone. He took her hand and willed himself to stop shaking.

"I'm fine." Her voice was muffled by the thick plastic.

"I've no doubt." He pressed his lips together and tried to smile. It didn't reach his eyes. He ran his thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand and she looked away, pretending to focus on the medic's poking and prodding. Jane continued to stroke her hand until Abbot pulled him away for his official statement-he'd had a wide-angle view of McGrady's drug-induced unspooling from the caravan of SUVs.

"Don't go anywhere," he whispered as he gave her hand a squeeze. With a quick wink, he turned to follow Abbot. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a dark shadow fall over her features as she watched him walk away. It was a look of resignation and it filled him with a hot rush of fear. He tried to answer Abbot's questions as quickly and efficiently as possible. His only concern was returning to Lisbon's side. He needed to feel her hand in his.

Thirty minutes later, after a brief word with Cho, he discovered she'd been transported to the local hospital for a routine check. But at the hospital, he discovered she had refused to stay overnight, despite the doctor's concern. That hot rush of fear grew brighter as he recalled the look on her face when she'd watched him walk away. As if turning the dial on a kaleidoscope, everything fell into place. She was expecting him to run off—to ditch her—and she was trying to beat him to the punch, instead. Desperate to get to her, Jane sped through Austin with the Airstream's gas pedal as close to the floor as possible.

Pulling into her driveway, he noted the light was on in her living room. Not bothering to properly lock the Airstream, he bolted up the steps to her porch. Lisbon answered the door on the fifth gruff knock, a slight stiffness in her gait as she favored her left side. She quickly hid her surprise as she pulled the door open. Everything about her body language screamed retreat. She looked at him, but didn't meet his eyes. Suddenly, all of the frustration and worry evaporated from him. If it was possible to stand tall whilst curling inward and away from him, Teresa Lisbon was doing it. This wouldn't do. With one final appraising look he took her wrists, his thumbs ghosting over her pulse, catching the flicker and flutter of her heartbeat there, and guided her back into the house. He toed the door closed, dropping one wrist only long enough to turn the deadbolt.

A memory of a time long ago played through his mind. In another lifetime they had stood in an entryway similar to this one, her body coiled with tension as she demanded in a watery voice that he hypnotize her. In that moment, he had bracketed her shoulders with his hands, soothed her with his voice until she had relaxed against him.

_I'd have to make all the stress leave your body. Maybe have you count down from 100… 99… 98… And we'd go 'round and 'round. 94… 93… Listen to me Lisbon, all the stress would have to melt away. You'd have to feel calm and relaxed, and very safe. _

He wasn't about to hypnotize her now, wouldn't dream of it. But he needed her to release that tension she'd bottled up. He needed her to tell him what was wrong, because while he had a sneaking suspicion, he needed her to be brave. If they were going to continue to move forward, she needed to give voice to her fears. It _was _her turn.

He tilted her chin up and she finally met his gaze, dark circles already forming under her eyes. She bit her cheek to keep her lip from quivering but he still noticed and ran his thumb along its fullness. His heart was breaking in the silence. Maybe if he gave her a gentle push...

Taking one deep breath, he tucked her hands against his heart and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Tell me," he whispered after a pass of his lips over her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. Finally, he gently tugged her against him, not unlike that moment all those years ago. "Tell me, Teresa."

She shook her head as if to say nothing was wrong, but her resolve quickly faded. With a shuddering sob, she relaxed into him and turned her face against his shoulder.

"I thought you were gone." Her voice crackled with unshed tears.

"Where would I go?" He coaxed, his hands flat against her back, holding her firmly in place.

"Away," she murmured. "I thought you'd go away."

His heart dropped to his stomach. While he'd put the pieces together and realized that she was expecting him to fall back into old patterns, hearing the words sent a chill through him. She thought he'd abandon her. He ran his hands up the length of her back and into her hair, his fingers moving in firm, soothing patterns.

"From you," he whispered, barely able to choke out the words. "You thought I'd go away from you."

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. He took a half step back, just enough to meet her eyes. Worry and fear played over her soft features. Over the years, he had let her down so many times, abandoning her under the flimsy guise of protecting her from Red John, from himself. She had expected the worst after one chance encounter with a strung-out idiot. He definitely needed to work on being that better man; he never wanted her to doubt him again.

"Teresa." He wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her injuries, and buried his face in her hair. She curled into him, a tiny sob slipping out. Pulling back from her, he held her face in hands. "I'm never leaving you, you need to know that. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you."

"I know you, Jane. You said it yourself in Miami, you're scared-"

"It doesn't matter." He gave a soft shake of his head and tipped her chin up, his eyes seeking hers. "It doesn't matter that I'm scared. I'm learning to be strong again. Let me prove to you just how strong I can be. I'm not running, Teresa. I can't promise there won't be times when I… when I resort to old tactics. But I'm never going away again."

She gave a tiny nod and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'd just assume that you'd run at the first chance, at the first time the reality of our jobs came up."

"Because of my past? Lisbon, if anything, I'd want to run _to _you."

Confused, she frowned.

"I don't understand."

"Now, when something terrible happens I don't have to make up some excuse to nap on the sofa in your office. Or show up after your morning run but before your post-run shower with a mocha latte." He danced her further into the room before tugging her down with him, into the oversized chaise lounge. "Now, I get to come home to you, I get to hold you—and without hypnotism."

She huffed and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I don't have an office, so no sofa to sleep on," she murmured absently, absorbing the meaning underlying his words. Understanding that he had always tried his best to comfort her before—an apple tucked in a jacket pocket, a spin in a fast car and dinner in Napa, a quiet rest on a park bench. That those little gestures had been his way of showing his care and love.

"For _now_. I'm sure that'll all change." He ran his the pads of his fingers down the length of her arm. "Just aim for a promotion that'll snag a big office with a great view. Like Abbott's office. A large, overstuffed pale blue sofa would look great in his office."

She snorted a laugh and softly pinched his side, eliciting a sharp chuckle.

"I'm not aiming for Abbott's job." The she turned somber again. "Just promise me, Jane. Promise me that if this gets to be too much, that'll you tell me."

He pressed her hand against his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere, Teresa. You seem to forget my practically monomaniacal focus when it comes to setting goals."

"Your word, not mine." His smiled at her teasing tone as a sharp gleam took hold in her eye. "Hey, wait a minute, did you just call me a 'goal'?"

"Please, Teresa," he stood as he spoke, still cradling her against him. He surprised himself by how deftly he pulled himself from the chaise, and without dropping Lisbon. "I think it's fair to say I've _scored_ on that particular front."

He stifled a yelp as she pinched his side once more—this time with a little more intent.

"OK, OK, easy, Lisbon." He gently placed her on the corner of the bed and tugged the covers back. "You need rest. You've had a very trying day, and all that crying isn't great for those bruised ribs."

"You're staying?" She asked as he toed off his shoes and socks, her voice filled with so much hope it made his heart stutter.

"Of course," he whispered. Then, standing taller, he tugged off his suit jacket and draped it over a dresser knob. "I mean, it's very important that I stay, tonight in particular."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's the first step in my new series of goals." He pulled his shirt from his pants and her eyes followed his hands as he unbuttoned it from the bottom, up. "Although, we really need to come up with a better name for it—'series of goals' sounds a little… juvenile."

"'If the shoe fits' and all that," she teased, her eyes darkening as she watched him reach for his belt. After dropping his pants and leaving them in a heap on the floor, he climbed in bed and tucked her against him. "What is this first step?"

"Hmm?" He cracked an eye open.

"The first step of your new set of goals?"

"Oh, that." He ran his fingers in soothing patterns through her hair. "To be here when you wake up."

"Oh."

"And then, tomorrow, to take you for a late brunch—somewhere with stuffed French toast and endless coffee." He continued to stroke her hair.

"That sounds lovely."

"Yeah, I thought so."

She grew quiet, and he thought she'd finally fallen asleep.

"Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"This new set of goals?"

"We aren't going to call it that, we need a new flashier name for it."

"Patrick?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I'll be here, if you'll be here."

Exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding—one, he'd probably been holding since she'd first looked at him from behind that oxygen mask, with those eyes full of worry and concern, he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Teresa."

\- FIN -


End file.
